


Several Days Later

by saisei



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Nonnies Made Me Do It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-04-25 05:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14371425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: Ignis pays a high price for the rescue aboard Ardyn's airship, and no one knows how to deal with that, least of all Ignis himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt, "Ardyn noncons Ignis in front of the helpless watching bros and leaves, and in the aftermath Ignis tries to focus more on consoling them, especially Noctis, than on his own trauma. It does not go well."   
> https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/310484.html?thread=1770688468#cmt1770688468

Prompto wasn't sure if Ardyn was a serious creep or a good guy who just gave off creepy vibes, but Ignis oozed distrust and hostility the whole time they were in Ardyn's airship. The man had just rescued them from becoming one of Ignis' barbecued recipes, and Prompto thought maybe Ignis could be just a _little_ more grateful. That thing Ardyn said about the ground being a long way down made Prompto nervous.

The airship set down in a cloud of dust; Prompto didn't know exactly where they were, one rocky plain was pretty much like the next, but Gladio glanced around after they disembarked and seemed confident.

"A man of my word," Ardyn said, following them. He sounded... miffed, and looked even more put out at Noct and Ignis' perfunctory thanks, as Ignis herded Noct back and away, keeping himself between his king and the chancellor. "Speaking of words, may I have one with you, my dear distrustful adviser?"

Prompto winced. Or at least, he tried to. But the air around him had thickened and everything looked bluish, as if he was underwater. He couldn't move – some kind of petrification, he supposed, squashing down the fear gibbering at the back of his mind like some kind of cave-dwelling goblin. He couldn't move his eyes, either, so he was stuck staring forward at Ardyn, who gave him an unfurling smile that would have raised all the hair on his arms if his hair wasn't, currently, frozen still. In the corners of his limited vision, he could just see Gladio to the left and Noct to the right.

Ignis, however, was free and already had daggers at the ready, center of gravity low and expression murderous. MTs dropped down around them, circling back out of Prompto's limited field of vision, but Ignis' rage was laser-focused on Ardyn.

"Ah ah ah." Ardyn raised his palm like a parent chiding an unruly child. "Harm me and your dearest friends will be statues until time itself ends, I guarantee that. But you needn't worry," he said, brow knitting with exaggerated concern. "It's merely a simple demonstration of the power of Magitek. I can undo it in the blink of an eye." He dropped Ignis a wink. "You just need to persuade me to be benevolent."

Ignis' silence was scornful.

"As Noctis' loyal adviser you shouldn't trust me," Ardyn went on earnestly. "But need I point out – _you have no choice_."

"Release them," Ignis demanded, but Prompto's ears picked up a strain of terrible uncertainty to the words.

Ardyn's mouth curved into a victor's smile. "Do set your weapons down. Or the pretty blond one will be your first loss."

If he could have, Prompto would have spun around. Whatever Ignis saw behind him must not have been good – must have looked like a lot of imminent death at the hands of enemy soldiers – and Prompto was _done_ with being petrified and threatened and helpless. He tried to psychically tell Ignis to just lop Ardyn's head off, but the message must not have got through. Ignis stepped back out of his fighting stance, and crouched to set his daggers on the ground.

"Now strip."

Ignis shot to his feet. "Are you out of your mind." And then he sucked his breath in sharply, snapping his head around to stare at Prompto, who stared back, waiting for death.

"Come now. Your comrades can neither see nor hear a thing, so should you choose to save their lives and indulge an old man's sordid fantasies, no one will be the wiser." His voice underwent a sea-change, sweetness bleeding into menace, as if he was finally unleashing the anger he'd been seething with all along. "Surely you didn't think I'd let you, of all people, walk free without even a little humiliation? You could use some... humbling."

Ignis raised his hands, uncharacteristically jerky, and began removing his shirt. Ardyn's terrifying smile grew, and he glanced over at Prompto and winked.

Prompto wished he could scream. Poor Ignis. Poor all of them. 

When Ignis was naked, his clothes discarded in a sloppy pile behind him (apparently Ignis had decided folding as per usual would not be taken well), Ardyn nodded in approval.

"On your hands and knees, please." The ground was stony dirt, supporting only the toughest clumps of crabgrass and blowing dust with every gust of wind. Ignis managed to look unaffected even as he knelt, back and shoulders as straight as possible while still keeping his eyes on Ardyn. "I see you were not entirely unaffected by the day's exertions." Ardyn clicked his tongue in mocking sympathy. Ignis' bruises, from falling rocks and battle, were greenish-purple and half-healed; he had several livid scores on his arms and legs where he'd been shot. Ignis was too stubborn to complain no matter how badly he was hurt; Gladio never trusted him when he said he was fine, and forced him to use his fair share of curatives. Prompto bet Gladio was freaking out now. And Noct, of course. "Now crawl."

Ardyn patted his thigh like he was summoning a dog, and Ignis crawled.

Under nearly any other imaginable circumstance, Prompto thought he'd find that sexy, but right now it set off every primal alarm in his head. His mind had a pernicious mental filing system; he could recall with ease every time Ignis had suggested leaving him behind or mentioned how expendable he was – teasing, of course, but Ignis must have meant it on some level, and equally Prompto believed him to some degree. Prompto probably _didn't_ deserve to accompany Noct, and he _was_ a commoner who could just walk away without tarnishing his family's ancient honor or anything.

What he couldn't stop thinking, frozen eyes fixed on the play of Ignis' muscles as he moved, skin and hair made golden by the perfect lighting, was that Ignis hadn't for an instant considered letting Prompto be killed. His surrender to this degradation wasn't motivated by a threat to Noct or Gladio; it was to save Prompto, and he didn't know how to process that.

"Normally I'd have you lick my boots clean," Ardyn said. His mood had swung back to amused, but that wasn't _better_. "But I find the idea of being fellated by such a filthy mouth distasteful. Don't you agree?"

"Yes," Ignis said, terse and rude, sitting back on his heels and staring straight ahead. Still clothed in dignity, and Prompto didn't want to be a witness to Ardyn stripping that away as well.

"Get on with it," Ardyn breathed out, and the air seemed to shimmer with menace.

Ignis obeyed.


	2. Chapter 2

Ardyn wore layers and layers of old clothes, like an upholstered onion, but eventually Ignis got his dick free, and leaned in to take it into his mouth.

"I'm an old man," Ardyn told him cheerfully, twisting his fingers into Ignis' hair to take away his control. "These days, it takes me positively ages to attain a suitable erection."

Ignis couldn't reply, of course, with his mouth stuffed full of limp old-man dick. Prompto would have snarked that maybe the problem was less physiological than psychological – maybe if Ardyn concentrated more on getting hard, instead of using his free hand to play a bad-touch game with Ignis' face, then this would all be over quicker.

The sun beat down relentlessly; a sheen of sweat appeared on Ignis' bare shoulders and back, his hair darkening with it. Ardyn was a big man, and his dick was probably proportional. Prompto could see the way Ignis stole lungfuls of air when he had the chance. Ardyn didn't care if he choked. He seemed to find it funny, and he gagged Ignis more frequently as time went on. He acted as if the physical process of the blowjob bored him, as if not even Ignis' best efforts were enough to overcome his apathy.

Prompto didn't get it. He'd had sex with two people in his life, one man and one woman, and even though he'd been motivated by curiosity and not love, enthusiasm had been a huge turn-on. Wanting to make someone feel good and try stuff for yourself. Ardyn simply wanted to hurt Ignis.

"There we go," Ardyn finally murmured. "What say we give your mouth a well deserved rest after all that hard, hard work? Finger yourself open for me, if you would be so kind. Oh, and do let me know if you're a virgin. Not that I'd go any easier on you," he added, as Ignis slid his fingers into his mouth and then reached back. "But I'd find it deliciously amusing if you chose to give that gift to me."

Ignis didn't look practiced to Prompto's eye, trying to go too fast and then flinching from his own touch, but then again he was prepping himself to be raped and just needed to get through the encounter as quickly as possible. If he _had_ had sex before, Prompto bet there'd been showers and a big bed and overpriced lube. Ignis' brand of meticulous thoroughness probably meant he excelled at sex. Which this wasn't. This was just what Ardyn had promised, excruciating humiliation before witnesses.

He wondered what Noct was thinking – he'd been friends with Ignis since he was five, right? Noct had told him that Ignis gave him _the talk_ about his wedding night with Lady Lunafreya. _Not as my advisor,_ Noct had made a point of emphasizing. He'd looked scared and sullen, and Prompto had wanted to reassure him that sex could be good – great, even – but he didn't want to sound like he was bragging, not when Noct's virginity was basically being sold to the only bidder.

 _I mean_... Prompto felt like he was betraying something for even thinking this, but Noct hadn't been given a choice about who he'd be marrying. He didn't even know if Noct was straight, gay, or other – maybe Noct himself didn't know, and wouldn't ever know. At least he loved Luna, that was important.

Prompto's attempt to block out input from his eyes with distracting thoughts met sudden failure as one of the MTs clunked back over to Ardyn at an impatient signal.

Ardyn directed the MT to bend forward at the waist, and then had Ignis stand and brace himself on its armored back. This meant Ignis was facing Prompto, Gladio, and Noct again, and he looked ghastly. He was livid, of course (Ignis was terrifying when he was angry, Proimpto had discovered), but his gaze kept flickering over their faces with a mixture of helpless worry and pleading, made worse by the way he squinted with his glasses off, his world unclear.

Prompto would rescue him if he could, he wanted some way to tell Ignis that, but all he could do was stare forward and watch as Ardyn forced his way in. Ignis' head dropped as he tried to breathe through it, but it must have hurt because despite his control he went up on his toes trying to get away. Ardyn shoved him down, with one large hand at Ignis' lower back, and seated himself fully, wringing a sharp damp sound from Ignis.

"We should do this more often," Ardyn said, running both hands over Ignis' back, which Prompto could see was burning in the sun. He pinned Ignis for the first shallow thrusts, the MT's armored joints creaking and whining as it struggled to remain balanced. "You're so much nicer when you're not prickling with hostility. You're a very tense person, if you'll allow me the liberty of saying so. Let's see if we can't get you to relax." He pulled Ignis' head back by the hair, so he was facing his friends again. "Talk to me, Ignis."

Ignis swallowed hard and unclenched his jaw just long enough to get out a terse, "What is there to say?"

Not one of his best comebacks, but Prompto gave Ignis props for having balls.

Ardyn looked fleetingly furious again, and the next few thrusts were deep and hard enough to crush Ignis between Ardyn's hips and hard metal. Ignis cried out before he could stop himself, and Ardyn's vicious smirk reappeared. He leaned forward, whispering something to Ignis, and then to the MT, which began raising its back incrementally as directed.

Prompto wished he had a way to warn Ignis or even, like, hold his hand; he saw the exact moment Ardyn found the angle that triggered pleasure and not pain, and Ignis' horror at realizing his body was capable of getting off on this, regardless of his personal desire.

Ardyn noticed – of course he did – and ran his fingers down Ignis' spine. "Tell me how very good it feels," he suggested.

Ignis was breathing in short dazed pants now, and his eyes closed tightly. "It feels good," he said, as obediently as a student reciting a lesson, but Ardyn hit his prostate again as he spoke, so the words ended on a groan. Ignis' head fell, his spine arching up, and his arms were tense, showing off the gorgeous definition Ignis preferred to keep under wraps. Ignis' toes curled in the dirt, and Prompto guessed he was fighting the physical urge to shove back and fuck himself to orgasm.

"Tell your friends," Ardyn told him, " _exactly_ how much you're enjoying yourself. Use their names," he added. "I know you'd rather they were fucking you right now. I'm sure you think of them when you pleasure yourself. So _tell them_."

"It feels good," Ignis repeated dully. "Gladiolus." His voice broke the name with a gasp, and what Prompto could see of his face was scarlet with lust and sunburn and shame. "Prompto. I am enjoying myself very much."

Ardyn twisted his fingers into Ignis' hair, pulling his head up and forcing him to stare at Noct. "Tell your king what a greedy slut you are, and use the filthiest words you know, if you please."

Ignis bit down on his lip hard – even without psychic powers Prompto could read that Ignis very much did _not_ please – but drew two shuddering breaths and complied. "I enjoy being _fucked_ ," Ignis said, and the word sounded far more obscene than Gladio talking about sex. In grievous extremity Ignis might let slip a _darn_ or a _bother_ ; it was surreal and cruel to hear him choke out, "Having a hard cock plowing my ass is – _ah_ – Noctis. Your Majesty. I love it, I – Noct – "

Ardyn started to give him a rough shake, and then realized that Ignis had just come all over his MT while choking on Noct's name. He smirked with self-satisfaction. Ignis' eyes were squeezed shut again, but Prompto swore he saw the shine of tears being held back. If Prompto could have moved at all, he'd have blown Ardyn's head off, chancellor or not.

"Well," Ardyn said, flashing a smile to his frozen tableau of spectators. "That was one of my more delightful trysts." He pulled out, without coming as far as Prompto could tell, and tucked himself back into his trousers. He gave Ignis' ass a gentle pat, and Ignis braced himself as if for a blow, earning himself mocking laughter. "So nubile and so eager, despite a certain charming naivety – it's been far too long since I had such a pretty boy to dally with. Certainly worth the wait."

He slid a hand into his pocket and pulled something out which he – _ah, fuck no_ – began pushing into Ignis' abused ass, one after another. Ignis' eyes flew open, wide with shock and pained violation. "I'd be remiss to not compensate you for your services," Ardyn chided, with a twist of his fingers. "After all, there's scarcely a difference between a royal retainer and a whore, as I'm sure you'd agree." Finally done, he stepped back, peeled off his gloves, and dropped them in the dirt. The MT whirred and straightened at a barked order, forcing Ignis to stumble upright.

Even naked and injured, Ignis still moved to put himself between Ardyn and Noct. Prompto stared at the bruises on his ass and the trickle of bright blood seeping down his thigh, and ached with a horrible nausea that had no physical release.

"And at last, my soldiers and I will bid you fond adieu," Ardyn announced, as if expecting them to be sad or something. "You have until we do to make yourself presentable – unless you wish your king," he sneered the word, "to see you looking so delightfully well-fucked when the spell lifts. Wouldn't it be _tragic_ if you went and made him jealous." He flicked his fingers in the air, and then turned his back with a dramatic sweep of his cape.

One by one, the MTs clanked forward to follow after him. Despite Ardyn's back being an easy target, Ignis chose to scramble for his clothes, graceless and desperate, instead of being suicidal enough to attempt murder. Prompto had seen him dress quickly in camp, but never so sloppily. Trousers and shirt were pulled on without underwear, shoes without socks, suspenders hanging loose and his belt undone as he shoved his glasses on his face. Ignis looked almost more defeated by the buttons that eluded his unsteady hands than he had when Ardyn fucked him. Of course, Prompto guessed that submitting to Ardyn's sick demands had been – in its own dreadful way – a success. A victory. Noct was alive and unharmed, which was the best outcome Ignis could have hoped for. But struggling to dress himself, even poorly, was unacceptable: a failure, when he was trying so desperately hard to hide what had happened.

The ramp to the airship clanged shut, and with a whine the whole huge thing rose into the air. Ignis forced himself to fold his underwear and tuck it into the back of his trousers together with his shirt, squaring his shoulders and standing as straight as he could, eyes on Noct with desperate pleading.

The spell snapped suddenly, like worn-through fishing line, and Prompto found himself collapsing forward, barely catching his fall with his hands, palms skinning on the rough ground. Above him, Gladio gave an incoherent snarl of rage, and Noct... fuck. Prompto didn't even want to look at Noct.

"Well then," Ignis said, sounding brisk and astoundingly normal. "I'm afraid the chancellor has had to take his leave. Shall we be on our way as well?"


	3. Chapter 3

"I'll flay him alive," Gladio snarled, shaking petrified lethargy out of his muscles. "Make _him_ crawl." Because Gladio apparently wasn't even on speaking terms with subtlety.

Ignis went completely bloodless pale, swaying like he was about to pass out. "You saw." His gaze jumped from Gladio to Noct, to Prompto to Noct, and then back to Gladio with increasing horror.

"He lied," Noct said, sharp and succinct, as if giving an order. "So you don't need to lie to us. Gladio – " there was a red, inhuman tinge to Noct's eyes that shut Gladio up and brought him to attention – "get the curatives, and Specs – you use as much as you need." He yanked his gaze away from the both of them, breaking the spell.

"Need to get to shelter first," Gladio said, just as tersely. Not disobeying, but making a proper correction to his king. "Cause of the last thing that bastard did. Won't heal properly around a foreign body. There's a haven north-west of here, about an hour at a normal pace."

Prompto winced and got to his feet as unobtrusively as he could, so stiff he felt bruised all over. _Normal_ for all of them was an impatient jog, trying to outrun boredom with rocks and trees and more trees and rocks. Today they'd be lucky to make it there by sunset, and that was if the voretooths decided to take a holiday from mauling.

"No shower or bed," Gladio went on, a bit quieter, when Noct didn't reply. "But it's the closest shelter, and safe. Nothing'll get in."

"Too late for that," Ignis muttered, trying to stand straight and failing with a sharp, bitten-back gasp.

Gladio grimaced. "You good to walk that far?"

"Only one way to find out."

"Guess we're going, then," Noct said. He sounded angry, but a more human, sullen anger than the weird supernatural smiting-hand-of-the-gods kind. Scary, but not terrifying. "Which way?"

Normally, Gladio'd snark at him and make Noct puzzle it out; his brand of wilderness training mostly involved letting Noct make a ton of mistakes and then mocking him for them, but it seemed to work. Noct was getting really good at finding wild vegetables and stuff, and hadn't tried to kill Gladio yet. But Gladio wasn't going to push his luck today. He nodded and started off, heading for a rock formation to what Prompto assumed was the kind of west-ish north. Maybe.

If necessary, Gladio could and would carry Ignis – any of them, in an emergency, possibly all at once – but Ignis obviously found more dignity in a slow, limping but steady walk, albeit with frequent pauses to catch his breath. Gladio ranged ahead, keeping an eye out for things he could kill, and Prompto hung out in back with Noct, making sure they didn't get ambushed from behind. Noct's expression was stuck between rage and tears; he kept staring at Ignis, and then ripping his eyes away. He was silent, probably not knowing what to say, like the rest of them.

Prompto finally figured out where they were when they crested a rise and saw the lake in the valley below. Gladio waited until they skirted close to the water before telling Prompto and Noct to go and fill all their water tanks before following them up to the haven.

"Take your time," he added pointedly, talking over Ignis' protest about splitting up. He put his arm around Ignis' shoulders, physically pointing him forwards and urging him on toward safety.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Noct said, "Gladio knows a lot about field medicine." He stared at Prompto as if daring him to argue. "He'll fix Specs up. He'll be – " He broke off and swiped the back of his hand over his eyes. " _Fucking hell._ "

"Yeah," Prompto agreed. He didn't know if it was improper for commoners to hug royalty, but he didn't care. Noct was stiff in the circle of his arms and only managed to return the hug awkwardly, but Prompto needed the comfort and Noct needed not to let his grief hurt Ignis.

"Some king I am," Noct said, face shoved against Prompto's shoulder, body shaking with tension. "I can never – _never_ – keep the people I care about safe. They all – they _die_ , and I should, I – "

"Ignis isn't dead," Prompto interrupted. "And not even the gods or the crystal or anything can stop death. Kings just stop wars. Kind of. Anyway. Gladio's saved my life more than once. Ignis will..." Prompto gestured to finish the sentence, throat closing around the lie that physical healing would cure all.

"Ardyn knew the best way to hurt him," Noct said dully, and his arms around Prompto tightened. "He's so... private, you know? Buttoned up. He's got to hate that we saw."

"It's better that we did." Prompto leaned his cheek against Noct's sun-warmed hair. "Now Ardyn can't try and blackmail Iggy, and we can, you know, be there for him."

Noct snorted. "Oh, he'll _love_ that. Specs _adores_ being fussed over. Maybe I'll get him a card, _sorry you got raped protecting me, get well soon_."

"Don't joke," Prompto said, voice high and panicked with superstitious haste. "He made a sacrifice for you. If you don't value it – " He bit his tongue; hugging royalty was one thing, but giving royal advice was really not his thing.

"I don't want to be worth that kind of sacrifice," Noct countered. He pulled back and let Prompto go, glaring. For a terrifying moment Prompto worried that Noct would ask him if he'd have crawled to Ardyn if ordered, if he'd been the one left unfrozen.

Maybe Prompto was brainwashed by his Crownsguard crash course, or maybe it had something to do with how he kept refusing to quit when Ignis and Gladio assured him he could and no hard feelings, but... he hoped he'd have had the courage to do _anything_ to keep Noct alive, and that was quite a mindfuck.

Plus he wasn't forgetting that Ignis had done that _for him_ , Ignis who right now probably was suffering the mortification of Gladio's fingers up his ass so he could finally be healed. Ignis whose trousers had definitely been bloodstained when they'd parted ways, and whose mouth must still taste like the chancellor.

"Water," Prompto said out loud, reminding himself how he was helping. He kept one arm around Noct as he steered him down to the lake's edge, and then they both started the work of pulling tanks out of the armiger, filling them, and tossing them back in.

By the time Prompto reached for a tank and found only full ones, the sun was already low enough that the lighting was spectacular. He felt a pang of grief for _not_ wanting to take pictures, no matter how gorgeous the world was. Noct capped the last tank and vanished it; he stood with his hips cocked forward, the way he did when his back hurt and he was too tired to be self-conscious.

"We should head up," Noct said after a moment of staring blankly out over the water. "Maybe pick up some mushrooms or something on the way? For dinner."

"Ignis likes vegetables," Prompto said, not knowing what else to say. "So – good plan."

Noct shrugged and turned to start walking up the hill. "Not the worst."

The sun was just slipping past the hills to the west when Prompto followed Noct into camp. The tin bath and a pair of still-steaming water tanks were set to the side, behind the scant privacy of a blanket strung along one of the laundry lines. Gladio and Ignis' clothes were pegged up neatly on the second line to drip dry, and it looked so domestic and normal that Prompto got that terrible feeling of deja vu like when something perfectly unremarkable reminded him of a nightmare, somehow.

Ignis was at the prep table, with an organized line of ingredients laid out. Tonight's dinner was fish, already neatly filleted. Probably one of Noct's favorite recipes, Prompto thought. Most of the fish ones were.

"Wash up while the water's warm," Ignis advised, his gaze flicking over the both of them critically. Prompto felt the full weight of mud he was carrying around from standing knee-deep in the lake.

"You don't need to _cook_ ," Noct blurted out, too loudly. He looked ill, and just like that the illusion of normalcy shattered.

Gladio had obviously not let Ignis scrimp on curatives: his movements were fluid and unpained, and he wasn't that nasty blood-loss pale any more. But even in the forgiving twilight, Prompto could see that his eyes were red and he was wearing his loose workout clothes; the more Prompto stared the more he saw signs of stress and distress. He forced himself to look down and focus on his own nervously twisting hands, concentrating hard on trying to be _normal_.

"I do, in fact, need to," Ignis replied, voice flat, less a snappy retort than a weary admission. "Please – just, don't. Tonight."

"Okay," Prompto said, overloud so Noct would take the hint and shut up. He shook his hands loose and then clapped, once. "Bathtime. Also, we found you some fungus... stuff." 

He gave Noct a jab. Noct jumped. Ignis eyed Noct warily, but he didn't do anything besides dump out the contents of his pockets on the table and then walk away.

So, so painfully awkward.

Prompto appointed himself in charge of the rest of the laundry, while Noct bathed, and then scrubbed off his own layers of dirt while Noct went off to collect energy. Gladio had apparently decided this was a great time to do inventory, so after pegging up every last sock Prompto wandered over to volunteer his services as kitchen assistant.

"No," Ignis said sharply. "I'm fine." And then he seemed to realize how rude that was and closed his eyes for a moment, mentally regrouping. "It's quite an easy recipe to prepare. Perhaps you could set the table."

"Sure," Prompto said, and then because he was violently allergic to charged silences, "whatcha making?"

Ignis stared at him for a moment with deep suspicion, before returned to his cutting board. He gave Prompto the name of the dish, and when prodded explained what ingredients he was using and how to optimally prepare them. He turned down, as he so often did, Prompto's request for more spice ( _Everyone needs to be able to eat_ ), and made vague – but sinister – threats about what would happen if Prompto didn't stop singing _just another barramundi_ to the tune of one of his mother's favorite old songs.

So basically the same as every night, except that whenever Prompto found himself starting to smile and on the verge of making even worse fish puns, he remembered what had happened.

The silences were pretty bad.

The long stretches of silence over dinner were magnitudes more agonizing. Gladio told Noct to call Cindy and ask her to tap into her network, see if the Regalia was recoverable; Noct couldn't for once in his life say, _Hey, that's a great idea_ , he had to be all _fine, whatever, get off my back_ and then clammed up in a sulk. Ignis would normally break that kind of bickering up (he claimed it gave him headaches) but he wasn't saying anything. Prompto finished his meal without tasting a bite of it, and when he said he'd do the washing up, Ignis shoved to his feet and said he was going to bed.

No one pointed out that it wasn't even eight yet.

Noct and Gladio helped with the cleanup, still somehow acting like they were needling each other, and then Noct huffed, wiped his hands off on his pants, and muttered _goodnight_ as he turned for the tent.

"Good idea," Gladio said, hanging the dishrag up, and followed. Prompto did not have any inclination to sit around the cooling ashes in the dark, alone with his thoughts, which made stumbling after Gladio a no-brainer decision.

Noct slept in the middle, because even in sleep he needed to be protected, but today Gladio dropped his bulk on Ignis' other side, which meant Prompto had to slither into the gap between Noct and the tent wall.

Lying awake in the dark was terrible. The lack of distractions made the intruding memories even more vivid – not just what he'd seen, but the grinding of MT gears and Ardyn's smug voice; the merciless sun and the smell of hot metal. But then Noct reached down to grab Prompto's hand, the way he did when Prompto woke up crying for his parents, and Prompto heard a scuffle on Noct's other side, accompanied by Gladio trying to be quiet as he rumbled, "Come here." Ignis murmured that it was too warm, but as far as Prompto could see he didn't make any move to disentangle himself from Gladio's embrace. Prompto squeezed Noct's fingers, and Noct squeezed back immediately. With that reassurance, Prompto closed his eyes and and started breathing his way through a countdown from one hundred. He was asleep before he hit the fifties.


	4. Chapter 4

Prompto snapped awake with a gasp, like he'd been having a bad dream, and when he checked his phone it was already half past five – too late to go back to sleep. He stretched and wondered how Noct had managed to shift in his sleep so his face was on Prompto's stomach and his feet were draped over Ignis.

Ignis was reading on his phone, looking unperturbed despite having a stinky royal foot practically in his face. He glanced over at Prompto, who gestured his disbelief at the nerve of some kings, and gave him a commiserating grimace. 

"We seem to be stuck," he said. "Morning." His eyes were red and puffy and he sounded stuffed-up, but hey, if Ignis was going to pretend this was just another regular day, Prompto wasn't going to point out evidence to the contrary.

"Gladio having a fun run?" Prompto asked on the tail end of a jaw-stretching yawn. "And he didn't invite me?"

"Most can't keep up when he's using physical exertion as castigation."

Or maybe Ignis _was_ going to talk about things. In his own way. Whatever that was. Prompto felt like a dick for not having bothered to find out how Ignis dealt with personal tragedy. He assumed that Ignis' family had died in Insomnia, but he hadn't asked and Ignis never said anything – which maybe made sense, considering they weren't the best of friends, but now he wondered if Ignis had turned to Gladio or Noct, or just bottled everything up.

Noct coughed and dug his forehead into Prompto even harder, and then a moment later said, "Gross."

"You drool, you sleep in it," Prompto said cheerfully. He didn't want to know if any of the dampness was tears, so: denial, denial, denial. "And dude, the smell from your feet is making Iggy's hair curl."

Noct's head rose a fraction as he twisted sideways, dropping his feet to the tent floor with a thump and squinting blearily up at Ignis.

"Hey," he said.

"Morning," Ignis said again, eyes still on his screen.

Noct let out a hideous groan and curled up, his head falling forward onto his bent knees. Freed, Prompto tucked his legs up and then kicked to sitting, stretching out stiffness. "I'll make breakfast," Noct muttered. He dropped one hand and groped for his phone blindly. "Give me a minute."

Ignis scoffed, derisive and just this side of mean. "Because there's something to celebrate – did I somehow overlook my own birthday? Or," and his voice went icy, "have you suddenly lost confidence in my abilities?"

Noct turned; Prompto couldn't see the glare he leveled at Ignis, but it was harsh enough to make him flinch. "You can be a real bastard sometimes, you know that?"

"Yes," Ignis snapped back. "And it behooves you to not forget."

He ducked out of the tent with impressive speed, considering there were two bodies in the way; propelled by righteous ire, probably. Prompto was left gaping, and Noct borrowed his shoulder to lean on as he got to his feet far less gracefully, his free hand scrubbing at his eyes.

"Yesterday happened?" he asked, very quietly.

Prompto nodded. He kept getting blindsided by little flashes of memory.

"Fuck," Noct said. He spotted his phone and leaned down to grab it, still hanging on to Prompto for balance. Prompto started babbling as Noct checked for messages; he couldn't really help himself.

"I was thinking," he started, "we're close to the road and the Coernix Station. Maybe Cindy can pick us up or get you a loaner car – " he gestured at the phone – "but if she can't, we can get supplies and rent some chocobos. Ignis likes chocobos," he finished lamely. Noct ignored him.

But over breakfast, Noct leaned forward and shamelessly proposed Prompto's plan like it was his own. "Cindy says she's looking around and Cid's got something up his sleeve," he concluded offhand, "but we're on our own for a while. Be good to head down to Wiz's and maybe pick up a hunt."

"Not bad," Gladio said grudgingly. His hair was still damp from taking a dip in the lake to cool off. Ignis was quietly seething at him for breaking his own rules about using the buddy system and taking unnecessary risks: the toast beside Gladio's eggs had been just one shade lighter than burnt. "You don't think we should stay here a couple days, though?"

Ignis' jaw clenched.

Noct shook his head. "I vote we keep moving, as fast as possible." He leaned back, crossing his arms.

"Can't run away from everything," Gladio said, each word weighted, like an accusation. He crunched his way through the last of his crusts, and then leaned forward to stare right at Ignis.

"I will _not_ discuss my trauma," Ignis snapped, framing the last three words in disdainful air quotes before sweeping a hand to the side as if brushing them away. Noct glanced quickly at Prompto in question; Prompto widened his eyes to show he was just as confused. He had the sinking feeling they'd slept through an earlier argument. "How arrogant are you, to believe I owe you that?"

" _Owe_?" Gladio asked. He was braced as if for a fight, but his voice wasn't as angry as Prompto expected. He sounded almost lost.

Noct spoke at the same time, soft but then louder to cut off whatever Gladio wanted to say. "Don't you always tell me to share my burdens? Don't you say I should rely on you all?"

All the hair on Prompto's arms was standing on end by the time Noct finished speaking, an ozone crackle of magic in the air. That last question rang in his ears, and he saw Ignis flinch as it hit, his fury cracking into genuine hurt.

"I thought you knew me better," Ignis said. His shoulders pulled inward, and the look on his face was the same as when he'd brought the news that Insomnia had fallen. Prompto associated that dazed, wounded expression with the gut-punch surety that his parents were dead. But Ignis still held himself with implacable dignity, which... okay, maybe that was how he told the world to go fuck itself, right up until he stabbed it (figuratively or literally) in the face.

Noct looked like he was having his own epiphany, mouth hanging half open like he was stuck that way, which was horrible, because it reminded Prompto of Ardyn's paralytic spell, and how none of them had been able to save Ignis.

"You're a danger to him," Noct said. His slack-jawed horror had firmed into stubbornness. "He's got plans, and you're smart enough to ruin them. That's why he chose you."

Prompto was keeping out of this whole discussion, otherwise he'd have floated his own theory, that Ardyn had wanted to hurt Noct. But Noct didn't need the guilt, so Prompto's lips were sealed.

He suspected Ignis read his thoughts like a book, the way he did, because he looked from Prompto to Noct and back again, and then sighed. "And here I'd assumed it was because he thought it was amusing."

Prompto didn't doubt that Ardyn had considered it the height of hilarity to make the king's adviser crawl through the dirt to service him.

"Someday I'll strangle him with his own entrails," Gladio promised, his hand rubbing his arm like he was trying to chafe himself warm. "Until then..."

"We never allude to this again," Ignis concluded. "Good. I'm glad that's settled. We should be on our way."

" _Dude_ ," Prompto said, and then wished he hadn't as all three of them looked at him.

"I don't know what he _is_ ," Ignis started, voice low and rough, standing to pace between the glowing sigils carved into the ground. "Like the daemons, he seems to have crawled up out of the darkness quite recently. I'd not heard a whisper of his existence until this trip, but surely he'd been working for decades to have attained that level of power and control within the Empire. It terrifies me to realize he's playing such a long game that he views the Emperor – and the king of Lucis – as easily manipulated pawns. And that he's... taking such delight in revealing his position means he's certain his goal is within reach."

He turned on his heel and started back.

"I don't think he lied." Ignis met Noct's gaze for a moment, before having to glance away. "I believe he doesn't know the victims of that particular spell retain awareness – else he'd hardly have dared risk losing the True King's trust. His intention was only to harm _me_ , in secret." Ignis bit down hard on his lower lip for a moment, just long enough for Prompto's mind to rifle through stillshots of all Ardyn had done to Ignis. "Another game of his." A sharp pained noise escaped Noct before he clapped a hand over his mouth. "So I reiterate, never alluding to this again is our best strategy. He knows that I know, and he must be... delighted... anticipating the exploitable faultlines cracked into my psyche. But you should, for all our sakes, pretend... he's our ally still. A charming, helpful gentleman who – who – "

Ignis wasn't crying, but Noct had enough tears for both of them; no sobs, not even a change in his expression, but a steady trickle down his cheeks, golden in the dawn's light and mesmerizing.

"We trick him," Noct said, voice as flat as if it'd been ironed.

Ignis had no words to reply. Instead he took two steps forward and, very carefully, put his arms around Noct, who immediately clung back. Noct pressed his face against Ignis' stomach as Ignis closed his eyes, and Prompto tore his eyes away like he shouldn't be watching something so exquisitely private.

Gladio looked like he felt the same, and he gave Prompto a grimace that wouldn't quite resolve into an encouraging smile. "Guess we're breaking camp," he said, and Prompto leapt to his feet.

Putting all the camping stuff away was an excellent distraction. Gladio gave orders and Prompto nearly impaled himself on tent poles, and at one point Gladio raised an eyebrow at all the crap Prompto was carrying and said, "Look who's been working out. Got some muscle on those arms now."

Prompto nearly dropped everything in the glow of recognition, but managed to retort, "You think you can take me?"

So he probably deserved Gladio grabbing him as soon as all the stuff was in the armiger and tossing him upside down over his shoulder.

"Don't mind me," Prompto yelled, as they left the haven and he still hadn't been rescued. "I'll just take pictures of Gladio's ass to pass time."

"Bet we could get good gil for those," Noct said. "Go ahead." He jogged on ahead, up the hill, and didn't even turn around when Gladio dropped Prompto to chase after him.

So things were good, Prompto thought. He'd been really worried about Noct and Ignis, because under all the king-and-advisor stuff they'd been best friends for a decade and a half – practically brothers. There was no way what Ardyn had done – the gleefully brutal way the rape was executed – wouldn't change their relationship somehow, but they weren't broken. Probably.

He had the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he was overlooking something major, but he told himself it was just nervous fallout from the day before. Other people were in a lot better position than he was to know if Ignis was seriously off and how; his job was just to shoot trouble in the face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how never-ending this story has turned out to be /o\

As they crested the hill and hopped the guardrail to the road, another bad feeling washed over Prompto like ice water. Glancing up, he saw his sixth sense for Imperial troops was – sadly – just as accurate as ever.

"Above us," he shouted, even though MTs were already dropping from the airship to the asphalt. And one of those damn mechas.

"We got time to run?" Gladio yelled at Ignis as he shoved between Noct and all that firepower.

"No," Ignis said, succinct and with an edge of satisfaction which made the hair on Prompto's arms stand on end. Daggers flashed into his hands.

_Shit_. Prompto should have remembered that this stretch of road was dangerous – with one base to the north and another to the south, patrols crisscrossed it all the time. _Ignis_ must have known, keeping track of that kind of thing was what he did. He always drove just a bit faster here: not enough to look suspicious or break any laws, but with his hands tight on the wheel and alert for danger.

As the first shots were fired and they threw themselves into the fight, Prompto tried to work around his bafflement at why Ignis would want to engage with the Imperials. Was it a revenge thing? Considering most of them were hollow robot shells, that didn't make sense. Unless this was the Ignis version of going to the arcade to game away his rage. But he'd never risk Noct's life just so he could decapitate a dozen MTs, right? So maybe the idea wasn't one-hundred-percent Ignis' – maybe Ardyn had left some kind of hypnotic suggestion. The fucker had used magic, or Magitek, to paralyze them yesterday. Who knew what else he was capable of? Would Ignis even know if he were compromised?

The idea terrified Prompto enough to get out the big guns; he wanted this fight done as soon as possible. The whole flow of battle was unbalanced, in a way that niggled at him like earlier. Noct and Gladio were ripping through MTs like they sure found violence therapeutic, and Ignis... was holding his own. Vicious and elegant the way he always was, but still _off_ somehow – 

"Prompto," Gladio snapped, and Prompto looked around right as Ignis pointed out a sweet hole in enemy defenses that was just crying to be exploited.

"Owe you," he said, diving to the side, shooting, and coming up next to Ignis. "We gotta take out that cannon." He jerked his chin up to the mecha's left arm. "If I damage it, can you roast it?"

"I don't see why not," Ignis said, eyes narrowed and glittering, like he was calculating every move needed for victory.

Just like normal, Prompto thought, lining up his shots while Ignis kept MTs off his back and gave him a quick rundown on the mecha's upgrades he'd observed. Prompto swapped out his weapons and knocked off the nice chunk of plating he'd weakened; exposed wires and hydraulics sparked and dripped, the arm dangling. Like always, Ignis was right there with the fire, and they both threw themselves into a roll and a slide away from the explosion as the mecha staggered around.

"Nice one, Iggy," Gladio called.

Prompto opened his mouth to argue that half of the damage was his, _technically_ , and then the realization hit him so hard he staggered. Ignis grabbed him by the elbow, but Prompto shook his head, shook him off, and killed two MTs in a black blind fury.

Ignis hadn't used any of their names since... since Ardyn made him say them. And here they were in a fight Ignis had manipulated them into, and he was testing himself. Seeing how much damage Ardyn had done, prodding those _exploitable faultlines_ he'd mentioned earlier to see how compromised he was. Most likely he was trying to force himself past the block and probably despised being affected at all.

And Gladio didn't have a leg to stand on anymore about Ignis spoiling Noct, because Gladio obviously _knew_ and was enabling like a pro. Thinking back over the whole fight, Gladio'd been calling Noct and Prompto the whole time, so Ignis could give them orders.

"Hey, giant asshole," Prompto shouted. He was going to pay for this, probably, after the fight, but right now he had Gladio's attention and that's what he needed. "Take the right leg, left's mine. And what's-his-name can warp up to stab its tiny head."

"You dumbass," Noct said, but they all moved, working as a team to bring the damn thing down. And that was what mattered.

When the mecha was nothing more than smoking ruins and the last MTs were mopped up, Noct turned to glare at Prompto, one hand braced on his hip. "That's _King_ What's-his-face to you," he said with a sharp little grin, like the royal pain in the ass he was. He looked over to where Ignis stood, arms crossed and head down, breathing hard. "None of us give a damn what you call us, Specs. I'd order you not to beat yourself up about it, but – "

"That won't be necessary," Ignis said, voice nice and politely conversational, which should have been a huge hint that he was going to be stupid. "I'm fine, Noct."

Prompto's breath caught, and the name seemed to hang in the air for a long moment as each one of them heard its echo, gasped out as Ignis was forced into orgasm, wracked with humiliation and pain. Ardyn had doubtless intended for Ignis to sound sexy, but Prompto had heard it as begging for rescue, unanswered.

Ignis turned, then, staggered the three steps to the guardrail, and was spectacularly ill over the side. Gladio dropped his face into one hand, and Noct – taking advantage of being out of Ignis' view – gulped in air like he was fighting down nausea himself.

But then he pulled his shoulders back and went to go rub Ignis' shoulders, while Gladio dragged Prompto over to stand guard.

"Better out than in," Noct was saying in encouragement. "You told me that the _one_ time I got drunk."

"You are _my king_ ," Ignis said, helplessly, and then retched again.

"And you're my most loyal adviser. Come on. You're smart, you know you're not going to get over being – what he did – in a day. Or even _several_ days. You don't have to take anyone's advice, but cut yourself some fucking slack." Ignis' expression was stony, gloved hand pressed over his mouth like that could keep the sickness down. "Remember how I hated the wheelchair? I always made you leave it in my room, but we'd get halfway to wherever and I wouldn't be able to walk any further. You had to run back to get it, every time. You can't just wish yourself better. The Six know I tried."

"Uh, guys," Prompto cut in. Not that he wanted to derail Noct, but – 

"Oh, fuck me," Gladio growled. "Two this time. Look alive."

MTs were already raining down from the airships that had snuck up on them, a troop to the east and one to the west, followed by two more upgraded mechas, and they were so, so screwed. Prompto still hadn't gotten his strength back up; everything hurt. He wasn't ready for this.

"The road's not safe," Ignis said faintly, as if he'd realized everyone knew they'd been set up and that he had no excuse for orchestrating this mess.

"No fucking duh," Gladio said. His shield flashed up for the first volley of gunfire, and Prompto put a few rounds into each airship in turn. Nothing happened as far as he could tell – he'd have to beg Cid for something with more punch, he thought, rolling and running as the MTs turned on him. 

The second fight took a hellishly long time. Prompto wasn't the only one dragging; between struggling to blow up one mecha and taking down the other, they all hit up the curatives and supplements. Noct ran out of the magical oomph he needed to warp and ended up running instead, looking disgruntled at being grounded. Prompto was distracted whenever he was up close and personal with MTs – they had a distinctive hot-metal-and-evil _smell_ and he was aware of it now, just as grating as the mechanical noises they made. It made him remember, and then he made mistakes.

He got shot three times, and even though with potions the grazes weren't a big deal – he didn't end up mostly-dead, at least – the wounds still hurt like crazy. Gladio was in worse shape, his right side covered in dried blood, because he was still trying to compensate for Ignis. Which Ignis, stumbling with exhaustion and calling more and more for them to fall back and regroup, obviously knew and hated and had no choice but to rely on.

As soon as the last MT toppled over, Gladio grabbed Noct by the arm and propelled him over to the side of the road. "Head for the rocks," he said, jabbing a finger to indicate. "Stay under cover."

Prompto wasn't about to risk manhandling Ignis, but fortunately he was already picking his way through the wreckage, following Noct, so Prompto just shepherded him from the back. He was still jittering with nerves, scanning the skies and constantly aware of the armiger and his weapons, always within reach. Ignis was in worse shape. He'd banish his daggers with an elegant gesture, and a moment later they flashed into his hands again, as he heard a sound or saw a shadowy flicker of motion.

There weren't any convenient stairs to get off the road, just a meter and a half drop after clambering over the guardrail. Prompto stumbled as he landed, nearly faceplanting into the dirt for the second time in two days. He hopped up as quickly as he could, brushing the dust off, and then realized he'd ignored the helping hand Ignis had held out.

"I'm good," he said by way of apology. He slapped Ignis on the back of the shoulder and pretended he didn't see how that nearly had him dropping into a defensive crouch. "Come on, don't want to keep Gladio waiting."

Ignis didn't say anything to that; he probably did want to drag his feet on the way over, knowing full well he was due for a lecture.

The first thing Gladio said as they slipped into the shaded shelter between the rocks was, "I'll assume you didn't mean for anyone to die." Ignis' mouth thinned to a tight recriminatory line, and he shook his head once, sharply. "And no one did. So stop dwelling on what might have happened, just don't pull that crap again."

Ignis crossed his arms. Tension made the lines of his body seem so sharp they were almost jagged. "It feels like he's watching. Now. At the haven. Sending the airships. _Always_. And... enjoying himself."

Prompto's skin crawled, and he glanced over at Noct for some kind of guidance. But Noct just looked bone-weary and sad, depleted of the magic that fueled his anger.

"For fuck's sake, Iggy," Gladio burst out. "It's good to talk shit out, but just _don't_ if you're doing it as some kind of punishment. You think you deserve something after this little stunt?" He sounded angry, but Prompto knew him well enough now to know that most of it was self-directed.

Of course, Noct did, too. He bit out, "Gladio," like a warning, which Gladio went ahead and ignored.

"The bastard was smirking at us, showing off, the whole time he was fucking you. Playing to his audience. He just doesn't – give – a – fuck." The last three words were punctuated by steps forward and ended with Gladio looming over Ignis, leaning in so close they were nearly nose to nose. "Strategize _that_."

Ignis breathed hard, but his face had gone blank and still, his eyes fixed off to the side, as if Gladio was somehow ignorable. "You didn't tell me."

Gladio didn't step back, but he seemed to pull in on himself, become smaller. "I'd kill to make you feel better. And, huh, just like I figured, the truth hurts you. So. Course I kept my mouth shut."

Ignis nodded. After a moment, he said quietly, "You are very fortunate that I don't have the time to waste on this. My resources such as they are must be dedicated to our survival and victory." He crossed his arms, chin lowering. "If either of us allow me to go to pieces, I fear I would not be able to reassemble myself properly and do what must be done. That is simply how I am."

Gladio breathed the words in, taking a long moment to consider before shaking his anger off, like a dog shedding water, and throwing a heavy arm around Ignis' shoulders. Dried blood from being hacked by an MT's axe flaked off on Ignis' shirt, but the wound itself was healed and gone. "Said it before, but I respect the hell out of you. We all do. No one here would tell you you're wrong for being scared," he added.

Ignis glared up at him. "Don't lie to me again. I will be fine. I cannot _not_ be, as a servant to the True King."

"Who had some shit luck," Gladio offered, when Ignis seemed at a loss for what to say next.

Ignis pondered that, like there was a depth to the words that held secrets, and then nodded. "Whose luck has been absolute _shite_." He was leaning into Gladio's half-embrace the way he only really did when posing for a picture. Prompto should take more group shots, he decided, so Ignis could let himself get more hugs.

He wondered if being a forced witness carried some unique kind of guilt or trauma which would explain why Gladio was trying too hard, and then he wondered if he and Noct were the ones doing this all wrong. He missed being able to get answers quickly in libraries and online searches – the comforts of home. He missed _home_ , out here in the wild where he was getting used to grinning in death's ugly faces every day.

"Not that your plan sucks," Gladio said after a moment. "I think it _will_ drive the fucker up the wall if we all act like nothing happened. I just don't think pretending to each other is how we should get through this."

"Ignis." Noct sounded far-away, which wasn't helping with how creeped-out Prompto still felt. He lifted his head and fixed Ignis with a stare so piercing that he started to take a step back before Gladio checked him with a squeeze. "I won't let Ardyn touch you again."

"You can't stop him." Ignis looked like he regretted the words the instant he spoke them. He frowned, and his hands on his elbows clenched.

"I will, though." Noct's eyes glinted, even more terrifying because there was nothing supernatural about the force of his determination. "Just you watch." And then he sagged and peered around the rock, as if keeping an eye out for wildlife instead of overloaded with too much exertion and emotion. Ignis wasn't the only one who didn't make a habit of talking about the big, important things. 

"I thought you wanted to go rent some chocobos," Prompto suggested to break the silence, aiming for diffident but not sure how well it worked when he was this dirty and the atmosphere this tense.

But Noct kicked him in the ankle – not hard – and said, "Try to sound like you're less psyched." Ignis made a small scoffing noise – not exactly amusement, but close enough that Noct's shoulders dropped some of the tension they were carrying as he gave Ignis a commiserating look. "We don't want to disappoint him."

"Ah." Ignis straightened, with stiff precision, and Gladio sighed and let him go. Noct stayed cautious, watching like he was a stray cat that might just as easily bite as purr. "Well. I suppose."

"Right?"

They made it all the way to the rest station without having to kill anything else, which was a relief. A herd of spiracorns came close, but Gladio guided everyone to a cluster of shrubs to hunker down and wait them out. He said the leaves were poisonous, which was why animals left them alone; Ignis took a few, folding them in paper before tucking them into his pocket. Prompto snapped nature pictures while they hid, nattering on about lighting and composition and how he'd been inspired by Lucian Geographic as a kid, except back then he'd been limited to taking pictures of cats and dogs (and pigeons and squirrels).

When the coast was clear, Ignis interrupted gently but firmly, saying, "I think we can be on our way now, Prompto."

"Oh, sure." Prompto stowed his cameras while Gladio glared in impatience, and they were already jogging eastward again before he remembered that Ignis calling him by name was a big deal.

Or maybe it wasn't. It shouldn't be. He doubted Ignis wanted praise or attention of any sort for fighting that battle in his head, and anyway, what would Prompto even say? _Good job not barfing this time?_ That'd be a one-way ticket to head-stab-land.


	6. Chapter 6

Just before they reached the Coernix station, Ignis stopped and turned to look back.

"Noct." Ignis' voice dipped, the way it did when he – very rarely – asked for a favor. "Noct – " He sucked in a deep breath, and then reached into his inner jacket pocket and took out a small cloth bag.

"Give them here," Gladio snarled, thrusting his hand out as soon as he saw what Ignis held. "I told you they'd weigh you down."

Ignis looked queasy, but he managed to level a haughty glare at Gladio. "I told you, we can't afford to throw away good money. And I _earned_ it."

"I'll take them," Noct said. His voice was calm, but it was clearly an order. Ignis' nostrils flared as if he was breathing down an argument, but then passed the bag over.

Prompto's stomach roiled.

Noct took a step away from Ignis. He untied the bag, spilled the Oracle Ascension coins into his cupped palm, and studied them for a moment, as if counting in his head. In the sunlight they sparkled like they'd been polished; Prompto really hoped it'd been Gladio who'd scrubbed them clean of blood. Noct made a small angry noise and poured the coins back, tying the bag with a sloppy bow before flinging it sideways, into the armiger.

"You're worth far more than that to me," he said simply. "We'll donate them – Luna knows a bunch of charities." He pulled his wallet out and peered inside, wrinkling his nose as he shoved it out of sight again. "I've got enough gil for the rentals, don't worry."

"Says the man who spends money like water," Ignis replied, the familiar rebuke coming a beat late and without its usual sharpness.

Noct grinned anyway, hooking his thumbs in his pockets as he headed up the dusty slope at an amble. Hopping the block wall to the parking area, he oriented himself with a quick glance around and then made a beeline for the rental tokens machine.

Prompto hung back by the cars, ostensibly looking for bottles to recycle or maybe a harmonica that worked, how cool would that be, but suddenly realized there was something he _could_ do. He still had money from selling Cid scrap, and the staff here could usually be persuaded to sell the good greens under the table. He wasn't sure how many days Noct was planning on taking to get down to Wiz's, but they'd probably stop at one or two havens along the way. Ignis liked pampering the chocobos, the same way he liked taking care of everyone, and good food was a big part of that.

Prompto tried to distract himself from thinking too hard about how nice Ignis was, because he'd just get sad and angry and tired all over again. He was relieved when Gladio walked in and nudged him aside to place his order with the nervous-looking sales clerk. Way too many curatives to be replenished, and then, with a guilty look at Prompto, a generous armful of Ebony cans.

"You don't tell on me," Prompto said, waving his massive bag of reagan greens, "I don't tell on you."

Gladio snorted, but after a moment said, "Deal."

Prompto waited until Gladio had finished paying, and then dragged him over to the corner by the sad freezer housing a handful of ancient popsicles, flavor: red. He didn't know how to beat around the bush, so he just blurted out, "Is Iggy brainwashed?" He kept his voice low and glanced around like there could be spies everywhere. Or, you know, Ardyn. "Is that why – ?"

"Nah." Gladio didn't hesitate, which was a relief, unless _he_ was brainwashed. Maybe they all were. "Least, I highly doubt it, and I been keeping an eye on him since – look. Mood swings like a fucking pendulum are exactly what I expect. I _know_ him. He's going nuts looking for a reason, same as you wanting him not to be responsible –" he gestured with his free hand at their matching bloodstained uniforms "– and lashing out because there isn't some nice rational explanation. But I'd bet my father's shield he's the one driving. Just not," he admitted with a grimace, "real good at staying on the road right now."

Well, that was a terrifying thought, and on its heels Prompto was struck by the suspicion that Gladio needed Ignis to be in charge, to keep _him_ from going off the rails. Also terrifying. At least he could rely on Noct to A) notice and B) do something, right (right?), which was awesome, because otherwise it'd be down to Prompto, fourth wheel extraordinaire.

"So I guess we need to get the Regalia back." As both a reply and a joke, the words came out as flat as Prompto's smile, but Gladio smacked him on the shoulder, making him stagger a step forward with the force of their emotional bonding.

"We will." Gladio spoke like that wasn't even a question. "Get a move on. We need to make the haven before dark."

As if it was all Prompto's fault they were behind schedule. He stuck his tongue out at Gladio, ducking outside and making a dash for the barnyard out back like there were daemons after him.

Noct had already picked out four chocobos, and was looking irked: each time he whistled for one, the others moseyed away, distracted by bugs or grass or each other. They had their feathers dyed festival-bright colors, and Prompto got stuck with the bouncy blue one because he'd laughed at Noct (anyone would have), but he wasn't going to complain one bit. 

Ignis talked to chocobos like he was a denizen of one of Gladio's historical romance novels: he called them _my dear_ and _darling_ , and got sappy instead of just saying bye when he dismounted. Prompto figured that was his weird version of baby talk. Maybe he'd had a plushie he dragged everywhere as a kid, that had primed him to hug and pet chocobos whenever he saw them. Whatever.

Prompto was just stupidly, enormously relieved that this hadn't changed – that Ignis was magnetically drawn to the chocobo with the ridiculous magenta feathers and immediately started scritching until he found a place that made her start cluck-purring, and all the other chocobos gathered around hoping to get equally lucky. Ignis looked smugly self-satisfied, like always, and Noct flashed Prompto a grin.

"Shut up," Prompto said preemtively, but Noct teased him anyway.

"I always thought you'd be our natural chocobo whisperer."

Prompto gave him his best disbelieving stare. "Over someone with ten years' experience making _you_ behave?"

"Got you there," Gladio chipped in. "Come on – get your ass in gear. I thought you wanted to stop and catch something for dinner."

"Race you," Noct said, taking hold of his chocobo's saddle and and hopping up like he'd been riding all his life.

Prompto scrambled to mount his own chocobo and steer her after Noct, who'd taken off at lightening speed, clearing the guardrail in one great leap and half-flying down the hill. Gladio whooped as he caught up, but then Ignis slipped past him, feathers going every which way as he secured second place. Prompto's ride was so frantic he was surprised his teeth weren't rattled loose, and so easily distracted that he had no hope of getting out of fourth. He didn't care. He wanted to cling to this sunwarm simple pleasure forever, until it drove out every shadow of _what happened this time yesterday_.

He arrived at the lake just as Noct was fixing a lure to his line. Gladio stood behind Noct, arms crossed, and made snide remarks about the line and Noct's technique; Noct somehow managed to tune him out entirely instead of punching him. Ignis was leaning against a boulder, tapping away at Noct's phone (hopefully making plans with Cindy), but he glanced up as Prompto slid out of the saddle to reacquaint himself with the nice stable ground.

"Blessed weather," Ignis said, the way he did. "Though I suspect we'll see rain shortly."

Prompto was crap at making idle talk about the weather, but he was worse at pretending that fishing was interesting. "Awesome, wet feathers stink." Something tugged at his head, sharp and painful, and he yelped, twisting around to see his blue chocobo trying to spit out a mouthful of blond hair. "Dude!"

"Stop scaring the fish," Noct called back irritably, reeling his empty line in.

Ignis snorted, raising one gloved hand to hide his amusement, even though the laughter showed in his eyes. Prompto grinned back at him even as he felt his head for a bare patch; if he could buy Ignis happiness with his hair, he'd gladly let Blue eat it all.


	7. Chapter 7

The lighter mood lasted through dinner. Noct presented Ignis with his catch, and Prompto handed over the greens, and Gladio put an Ebony can onto the prep table while walking past. Nothing got by Ignis, so they didn't even try to be subtle. Prompto thought, a couple of times, that Ignis paused while cooking like he was going to say something, but he didn't. Probably acknowledgment of the gifts would cut too close to bringing up the reason for them, which was something no one wanted again today. The laundry drying on the line was reminder enough.

The night was clear and warm, with a fat moon low in the sky and the Astral bridge twinkling overhead. The chocobos dozed with their stomachs full, and Prompto curled up against Blue to review his nature pictures; and, once he'd worked up the courage, to go back and move the three pictures he had of Ardyn to their own password-locked folder. He might need them as intel, someday, but now he wanted to forget they existed. He rewarded himself with a few dozen baby chocobo pics after that.

The Haven stilled around him, and when he looked up from the screen, blinking as his eyes adjusted, he realized Ignis had fallen asleep slumped over his chocobo. She'd tucked him up under her wing like he was an overgrown chick.

"He's okay," Noct murmured, catching Prompto's eyes. "I'm still scared, but...."

"We all are," Gladio said. Prompto blinked, surprised Gladio'd admit it. "Now grab some shut-eye, Your Majesty." He put one giant hand on the back of Noct's head and pushed him back against his chocobo, which clucked in annoyance until Noct put an arm around her neck and mumbled apologies into her feathers. Gladio got up, slid Ignis' glasses off and set them on the table, and then curled up with his own chocobo for the night.

Prompto put his camera away and leaned back into feathered warmth, closing his eyes. He tried to will himself to sleep; tried to slam the brakes on his racing thoughts; tried to bleed tension from his body. He didn't know how long he lay there, but eventually Gladio started to snore and Prompto gave in to the need to move. He flopped over to lie on his stomach, with his head pillowed on his arms, and kicked his feet in the air like a child throwing a tantrum. A few minutes later he rolled over onto his back and stared up at the sky, wondering if he'd be awake to watch the moon cross the entire sky.

Something warm brushed his outstretched fingers, and as he turned his head Ignis took his hand in his own. His eyes were barely open, and he breathed out _sleep_ in a way that sounded like an irritated order, or possibly a murderous threat.

"Can't," Prompto whispered back. He gave Ignis' hand a squeeze in apology. The touch was comforting, and he didn't know if it was right to take comfort like this, if _he_ had the right, but Ignis had offered.... "Hungry."

Ignis sighed like that was just too much to bear, but before Prompto even knew what was going on he'd rolled to his feet – without ruffling even one magenta feather – and pulled Prompto up as well. The hand of comfort had a grip of steel.

Ignis made his way over to the table with the silent grace of a stealth mission; Prompto, dragged behind, stumbled over his own feet and nearly fell on Gladio.

"You don't have to," Prompto said, as Ignis grabbed bread and fixings. "I know how to sandwich, you can go back to bed, seriously."

"Bed," Ignis echoed. He sounded gloomy, slicing the bread, and maybe here was another thing Prompto didn't know about Ignis. Maybe he secretly hated camping and sleeping on rocks and would give his eyeteeth for a decent mattress and a hot shower. But he wasn't the type to complain on his own behalf: point out that their gil shouldn't be squandered even on really cool racing stripes, yes; whine about his own discomfort ( _even when he was bleeding and violated_ ), no. And he was definitely the type to pretend he wasn't affected at all by camping discomfort, just to show Noct up. "Are you asleep after all?" he added sharply.

Prompto blinked. "Nope. Just thinking about how awesome you are." He picked Ignis' glasses up from the table and slipped them on. The stars above blurred into fuzziness. "Look at me," he said, trying the accent as well, "indubitably awesome."

"Flattery won't get you mustard, we're out. And if you so much as smudge the lenses..."

Prompto took the glasses off and made a show of whipping out the cloth he used on his camera lenses and polishing them spotless. "An Argentum does not smudge." He handed them over and waited with exaggerated breathlessness for Ignis' grudging nod of approval. Prompto swooned with one hand tossed theatrically over his forehead. "My life is complete."

"Complete _idiocy_ ," Ignis said under his breath. He contemplated his stack of sliced bread.

"Even I can't eat all that," Prompto felt obliged to point out. And then as Ignis' pointed glare triggered understanding: "How'm I going to know you're midnight snacking, too, if you don't say anything?"

Ignis raised one shoulder in a desultory shrug, and lit the cookstove for the delicate art of toast (which Prompto was now banned from – _for life_ , Noct had said, _royal decree_ ). "We didn't eat lunch, and I couldn't stomach breakfast. Despite what Gladio may have been led to believe." He set the sliced bread on the grill in a neat grid. "At least his and my dishonesty is mutual, I suppose."

"It's weird, isn't it, how there's recipes for even stuff like sandwiches in all those old books we keep finding, but whenever you want to do the right thing, it's just you and your best guess trying to figure it out." Prompto shrugged, twitchy, and then crouched down to dig two plates out of the box. "I'm not sure good intentions count, but I don't know what else there is." He slid them onto the table.

Ignis hummed, a thoughtful _hmm_ that reminded Prompto of his third-grade teacher. She'd never come out and said anyone was actually wrong: instead, she hummed just like that, and asked Prompto if he wanted to think about his answer again. It was amazing how much spelling-related anxiety he still had.

"I must apologize for this morning," Ignis murmured, while appearing to study the toast. It must have passed muster, because he flipped it deftly and slid thinly-sliced cheese on top to melt. No lack of mustard was going to make an Ignis sandwich sub-par. "At present... my own intentions elude me. How are you holding up?"

Prompto had been bracing for this moment, but he was proud anyway of not flinching or anything. He knew Ignis was watching him closely. "You don't need to try and make me feel better. Really. I'm cool. Better than. The thing is," he swallowed, "if everyone's happy, I'm happy – you and me, we're kind of the same that way, wanting to make things good for people. As long as you get better, I'm good."

"I'd give anything to be the only one who knew," Ignis admitted with both reluctance and resentment, as if _Prompto_ had brought the subject up. "I keep thinking about – " He paused. Prompto held his breath, terrified that Ignis' resolve was going to crack and he'd tell Prompto every nightmarish memory and each poisonous thought blossoming from shame, draw a ruthlessly detailed map to weaknesses and instabilities that he was helpless to not fall prey to. But Ignis closed that opening door firmly, the way he did, locking it tight with a platitude. "Healing will be simply... a matter of time."

Prompto sagged, leaning against the table for stability. He thought he was doing a fantastic job of not breaking out in nervous laughter and full-body twitches, but he knew how close he was to the edge. "I'll be here," he said. "Whatever you need." He made himself look up, almost meeting Ignis' eyes. "Gladio and Noct, they can say it better cause you've been friends for years, but like, even I know how strong you are, and that you got where you are by will and skill."

"Of course you know," Ignis said, sharp as getting up close and personal with a cactuar. "Having seen the full demonstration of the lengths to which I and my skills will go to."

_Don't put words in my mouth_ , Prompto nearly said, but he could predict just how Ignis would twist that. "I meant that luck's never mattered to you. That's all. If you've got to be mean, just call me stupid like you usually do. I'm tired."

" _You're_ tired."

Prompto figured he had a point. "I'm gonna slice the ham."

"And the tomato," Ignis added, using the fork to slide the toast onto plates. " _Neatly_ this time, please."

"Roger-dodger, Igster," Prompto said. He reached for the knife, and began sawing away with surgical(ish) precision.

"I enjoy your company," Ignis said, intent on unwrapping the purple-veined Leide lettuce and shredding it. Prompto startled, and then tried to shift his focus back to the chopping block; he didn't want to screw up again. "And I consider you a friend. You're an excellent conversationalist, and what you may perhaps lack in brains you more than make up in heart."

Prompto hoped the firelight was dim enough to hide his hot blush. "Aw, dude. You give the sweetest backhanded compliments." He slid two wafer-thin slices of ham onto the lettuce and topped it off with tomato. Ignis flipped the cheesy toast tops on and _voila_ , perfect sandwiches. "Lemme grab a picture before we chow down."

He meant like the photos he took of their meals at camp, just the food artistically arranged on a dish, because someday maybe Ignis would write his own cookbook. But Ignis picked up a dish as Prompto whipped his camera out, and no way was Prompto going to snap him all by his lonesome. He tucked himself up against Ignis' side (standing on his tip-toes so they were almost practically the same height) and held the camera out at arm's length.

Prompto did kind of wonder, as he snapped his usual series of photos, if letting himself be photographed was something else Ignis was forcing himself to do so he could bootstrap himself back to normal as fast as possible. But there was no way he could ask. He chomped at his sandwich with one hand while he chose the best picture and deleted the rejects, and then offered Ignis the camera.

Ignis took it, and Prompto made a production of eating so he didn't look like he was paying attention. Even though he was, and Ignis doubtless knew. Which might have been why, after holding on to the camera long enough that his reluctance was painful to pretend not to watch, he finally turned the viewscreen up and glanced at it.

The lighting had sucked, but Prompto's selfie game was strong enough for it not to matter. He'd caught both of them smiling, Ignis looking food-proud, with one hand on Prompto's shoulder keeping him from wobbling. Prompto was squinty-eyed and toothy, but that was typical, really. Normal.

Ignis scrolled back through pictures, and then returned to this one, once and then again, like he was searching for some kind of bright delineation between _before_ and _after_. It gave Prompto ants in his pants, like he needed to run, fast and far and never stop.

"Hey," he said instead. "Give that back. Your sandwich's getting cold."

Ignis glanced up at him, far too knowingly, and returned the camera without a word. The last picture he'd been looking at was of the four of them, standing with arms crossed in front of one of the great stone arches. Prompto had been trying to appear cool and tough; everyone else had succeeded. Like a poster for an action film, they looked badass and invulnerable.

Prompto turned the camera off and slid it back into his pocket. Overhead, the stars – like the Astrals – stayed distant and mysterious, and the moon drifted to its highest point. A new day began, and Ignis began nodding off over the remaining half of his sandwich.

"Iggy." Prompto kept his voice low and opted against a poke in the shoulder, worried he'd lose his poking fingers. Ignis roused, his head jerking up so he could blink blearily in Prompto's direction. "Your featherbed awaits." He could see an effort being made to rally an objection, and waved it off. "Seriously. I can clean up."

"I'll leave things in your capable hands, then," Ignis said, voice sleep-rough. He paused for a moment when he stood, as if warding off dizziness, and then turned to head back to where everyone else slept, peaceful and oblivious.

"Night," Prompto called, as quietly as he could, and Ignis raised his hand in acknowledgment before curling up, once again, with his chocobo. He'd left his glasses folded beside his plate, and Prompto put them safely on the table where they belonged before setting into his work with tired determination. He didn't look around to see if Ardyn was spying on them; so what if he was? All he'd see was that Ignis was stronger than he'd thought. All of them were. And no matter how powerful he was, Prompto had faith their strength would be his downfall.


End file.
